


I Know A Place That's Tucked Away

by Harder_Than_Bone



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Irregular Updates Sorry, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harder_Than_Bone/pseuds/Harder_Than_Bone
Summary: A collection of Camp Camp short stories that are written in spare time. I'm a sucker for angst, okay?





	1. Popping

When he was alone in the bathroom, he'd stare into the mirror and feel an eternal rage swelling inside of him. He wanted so badly to smash the glass and cause himself harm, but he knew if he did that, his cover would be blown. He couldn't let everyone know how unstable he was. He couldn't let everyone know that he was a popper.

So instead of releasing his anger, he gripped the sink so hard that his fingers cramped and his teeth ground harshly against each other. He wanted so badly to just _scream,_ to just--

Banging on the door signaled that he needed to get over himself. A quick splash of cold water, deep inhale and exhale, and a grin caused by a multitude of unnecessary antidepressants, and David was on his way.

His persona was hated by everyone at the camp, because if there's one thing people hate more than themselves, it's a cheerful, optimistic person. _But,_ he has to remind himself, _if you didn't have this shield, they'd hate you for being_ **you.** He'd nod to himself and continue on his day, migraine threatening to take over his brain.

Gwen never knew about his nightly trips to the Quartermaster's cabin. She never knew that he always came back with fifty less dollars and a new "test drug" in his system. David never asked where the tests came from, and QM never questioned why he was coming for them.

He can't really remember when it started. Maybe it linked back to high school, when one of his friends came to him and asked if he wanted to buy some Adderal. Maybe it began the fifth time that he switched prescriptions, all within the span of a couple of weeks. Maybe it stemmed from his early childhood, watching his mother go through umpteen pill bottles just to survive the day.

At one point in his short life the dependency replaced his feelings, leaving him just the shell of the person he used to be. But over time, he learned how to slide different faces over his own, making him seem like a highly functional citizen of society. No one ever questioned him when he presented something they wanted to see.

 _Twenty three years old,_ he wondered to himself in the dead of night, high off of Xanax and Dilaudid and breathing much too heavily to be pleasant, _and there's not a thing left for me in this world._

His sedated smile was hidden in the darkness of his blankets.


	2. Rope

Every day was a constant struggle for David to keep face. Sometimes he let the mask slip a little too much, and his anger would peek out, or tears would streak down his face before he got the chance to hide them, but he always managed to paste a smile on his face again. So far it seemed to work, but he wondered sometimes, late at night after a long day of harsh words and rough treatment, if pretending to be happy was worth it. If keeping a positive outlook and an optimistic mindset was really worth the hopelessness.

No one knew about the pills he kept under his pillow, nor the alcohol he hid under his bed. Years of practice and failed attempts at sneaking had taught him the best ways to cover up a hangover, the stench, the bags under his eyes. Every morning he washed down a Zoloft or two with Jack or Goose and hoped, as he brushed his teeth and fixed his clothes, that the toxic mixture would tear him down that day. Each night he would lie awake in bed for hours and hours, silent tears choking him as he tried to keep it together. He'd already been through three different prescriptions within the last two months, and now this one was beginning to fail him too.

He began to think of death. It terrified him, but he couldn't keep his thoughts away from it when he was all alone in the dark.

It was Wednesday, the third one of July, and the "Camp of the Day" was Adventure Camp. Nikki was so excited that she couldn't stay still for even a second, and usually David would be bouncing around enough to match her. But that Wednesday, he was uncharacteristically quiet. His smiles were small, slightly forced, close-lipped. His eyes weren't as big, or as sparkly. His shoulders were hunched and his skin was extremely pale. When Gwen finally noticed, David just said, "I'm okay, Gwen, I'm just tired." 

She wasn't the only one to notice. The entire day, while following Nikki through the woods and around the lake, Max had tried his best to get a rise out of him. He pulled out all the stops, calling him names and wearing his esteem down to the bone, but not once did David get angry or scolding. Instead, he just nodded and smiled a little, not even bothering to correct Max's dirty language.

The angry boy would never admit it, but even he was getting worried.

After they went back to camp, David vanished into the counselor's cabin, much to the concern of Gwen and the campers.

Turning to Max, her brow creased suddenly. "Do you think... Do you think I should go after him?"

"Nah." The boy shrugged nonchalantly, even though he was fighting to keep his worry away from his face. "He'll be okay. Just watch."

Turning back to the cabin in the distance, Gwen sighed and voiced both of their thoughts. "I hope so."

~~

Inside the cabin, David was busy writing a letter. _A farewell letter,_ he thought, because that sounded much better than the other term for it.

_I'd say I'm sorry, but... I'm not. I feel bad about making you cry, but you won't miss me too much after a while. Promise yourself that you won't mourn me for long._

He cringed at his own writing, the shakiness of the scrawled letters, the tear stains that smudged the selfish words. He exhaled, took a few gulps of liquor, and crumpled the paper slowly. They wouldn't need to read his cowardly excuses. 

He tossed the paper in the trash bin in the corner of the room, went over to the door to lock it, and then pulled the curtains on the windows. His mind raced as he drifted over to his bed, kneeling down and reaching under to find the length of rope he'd stored away. He had approximately three hours, if he was doing his calculations right, before the campers and Gwen turned in for the night.

Sitting on his bed, David found his hands expertly tying a hangman's noose on autopilot, the actions so ingrained in his brain since he was 16 that he didn't even need to look at the rope to know he was doing it correctly. 

To say he'd been preparing for a while would be an understatement. 

As he stood on his mattress to reach the rafters, he wondered why he wasn't having second thoughts. Didn't people normally back out once they thought about the consequences? Instead, David just found himself feeling... Apathetic. Indifferent. Numb. Even if there were tears carving their way down his cheeks as he fastened the end to a sturdy wooden bar, he couldn't bring himself to care much about anything anymore.

If pills couldn't help him, nothing could.

~~

It was 10:00 pm on Wednesday when the campers heard Gwen's gutwrenching scream. "DAVID!!"


	3. Rope (Alt Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Guest User Kelly, who gave me the idea and made me incredibly happy with their comments. Thank you, darling!

It was Wednesday, the third one of July, and the "Camp of the Day" was Adventure Camp. Nikki was so excited that she couldn't stay still for even a second, and usually David would be bouncing around enough to match her. But that Wednesday, he was uncharacteristically quiet. His smiles were small, slightly forced, close-lipped. His eyes weren't as big, or as sparkly. His shoulders were hunched and his skin was extremely pale. When Gwen finally noticed, David just said, "I'm okay, Gwen, I'm just tired."

She wasn't the only one to notice. The entire day, while following Nikki through the woods and around the lake, Max had tried his best to get a rise out of him. He pulled out all the stops, calling him names and wearing his esteem down to the bone, but not once did David get angry or scolding. Instead, he just nodded and smiled a little, not even bothering to correct Max's dirty language.

After they went back to camp, David tried to vanish into the counselor's cabin, but in sudden desperation Gwen grabbed his arm and drug him into the Mess Hall, babbling about how she couldn't deal with the kids herself and if he didn't help her, she would lose her mind.

As she pushed him through the doors, Max watched David very carefully, so he was able to pick up the exact moment when his expression fell, as if he'd had other plans that he was looking forward to.

So naturally, he felt the need to snoop.

As he headed down the path to the counselor's cabin, the child ran different scenarios over and over in his mind. Why did he look so tired? Why was deflecting questions? Why wasn't he responding to the usual torment and frustration the kids liked to give him? Max didn't have any clue why all of this was happening, but he wanted to figure out the reason. A few solutions crossed his thoughts, but he dismissed them quickly. He knew how David acted when he was in love, he knew how David acted when he was stressed, but this... Was something entirely different.

It didn't take very long for him to break in. After all, he'd been doing it successfully for over a month now. Once inside, Max went straight over to David's bed and shoved his hand under the mattress, sure he'd find some clues there. After fishing around for a while, the boy frowned and withdrew his hand, having found nothing but lint and dirt. Maybe underneath?

Getting on his hands and knees, Max reached under the bed and patted around, gathering dust on his fingers until he just barely managed to graze against something rough and harsh. Almost like...

He managed to grab the thing and drag it out, his breathing stuttering as soon as he laid eyes on it. It was... A noose.

Suddenly, he felt very sick.

He knew he should go to Gwen immediately, but he couldn't help the dread that crept into his mind as he realized... _There might be more._

He began to rifle through the bedside drawers, his eyes welling up with tears as he found multiple drafts of the same goodbye message. He had no idea...

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Max breathed deeply and swallowed hard. He was so, so glad he found out before... Before something happened. He made up his mind then, deciding he had to have a serious discussion with both counselors. Sighing and folding the papers, he slipped everything into his hoodie pocket and exited the front door, making his way to the Mess Hall.


End file.
